March, here, if he had his own way, wouldn't have any illustrations at all." "Not because I don't like them, Mr.Beacon," March interposed, "but because I like them too much.

I find that I look at the pictures in an illustrated article, but I don't read the article very much, and I fancy that's the case with most other people.

You've got to doing them so prettily that you take our eyes off the literature, if you don't take our minds off." "Like the society beauties on the stage: people go in for the beauty so much that they don't know what the play is.

But the box-office gets there all the same, and that's what Mr.Dryfoos wants." Fulkerson looked up gayly at Mr.Dryfoos, who smiled deprecatingly.
"It was different," March went on, "when the illustrations used to be bad.

Then the text had some chance." "Old legitimate drama days, when ugliness and genius combined to storm the galleries," said Fulkerson.
"We can still make them bad enough," said Beaton, ignoring Fulkerson in his remark to March.
Fulkerson took the reply upon himself.